Mortal Kombat: The Eleventh Battle
by RainChild1
Summary: One more Tournament is to be fought for the fate of Earth: and this time the Tournament of Mortal Kombat is early...
1. Prologue

Mortal Kombat: The Eleventh Battle  
  
Summary: Once a generation, the great Tournament, Mortal Kombat, is held. The best fighters from all four corners of the Earth come to fight the Emperor's forces from Outworld. If the realm of Earth loses ten Tournaments in a row, Outworld will be free to invade and enslave the planet. The Tournament is the most revered, important event for each generation of warriors; but this time, something has gone wrong.  
She is the Witch, a murderous creature from a dimension far from both Outworld and Earth, and seeks to rule over both. She has the power to absorb the abilities of any fighter she bests, even their own powers and magical arts. The Witch seeks to enter the Tournament, and may very well win, which will be disastrous for both realms. Earth's combatants set out to stop both her and the Emperor Shao Kahn, but the youthful fighters forced to carry their generations' weight have enough problems: understanding themselves, and each other...  
  
Author's Notes: First of all, a word about my rights to the story. I came up with this idea, yes, and I wrote much of it. But I shared the story with Justin Hamilton, a friend of mine. He wrote several parts of the stories, helped develop the idea, and was great with supplying me with a few martial arts moves for the tale (he was, last time I saw him, a brown belt in Tae Kwan Do). However, I ended up moving away, and Justin is at college now; I have no idea how to contact him, and many of both our stories were lost to me when I moved. So, Justin, if you happen to stumble across this, I still consider you my co-author, and thanks for all your help.  
Second, (damn, this is getting long!) I'd like to say a word about the Witch. I'm an avid believer in ancient magic, and I've studied Wicca. Wicca, which is based on ancient Witchcraft (for those of you who don't know), is a very positive religion that swears never to harm and doesn't believe in Satan or the Devil. I won't be making any references to Satan-- I don't believe in him myself-- but, for the sake of the plot of my story, I needed a powerful being, able to control the weather and magic. She is not anything like an actual Witch, I know (I won't explain Witchcraft, but look for its true meaning and beliefs online), but it was the only word I found that could describe such a person in the mind of the public (even if the public's Hollywood version of Wicca and Witchcraft is warped). I wanted to add this so everyone would know I don't think Witches are some evil devil-worshiping cult full of crazies; I know they're not, and I've studied the ways of Wicca. I thought saying so beforehand might cut down on reviews and e-mails that flame and rant I've portrayed Witches in a negative light and Witches aren't like that; I know that already. I'm sorry to say "Witch" with such a meaning, but I had written the story long before I'd heard of Wicca, and nothing else sounded right by the time I had. I don't want to persecute a religion I see as valid, so if you are a Witch or Wiccan or pagan, etc., please accept my apologies, and if you aren't, I advise you to educate yourself if you are still under the belief Witches are Satanic, evil beasts. They're not.  
Finally, please feel free to e-mail me if you don't have an account or don't want to use the review system. My address is raingoddess_47@hotmail.com, and I adore praise, flames, and any comments. As long as you don't flame me for something I've already disclaimed in my Author's Notes, I think flames are a great idea. They really help me learn to write my best, and see things in my story that should be fixed. Someone reviewed my Everworld story with plain old constructive criticism, and it made me see the story in a new light that I believe will help it turn out better (if you've read it, I DO plan on finishing it, but it's taking me awhile; my apologies). So, flame or praise (or ask me on a date; I'm a single nineteen-year-old female) away, but it may take me awhile to reply. Internet problems.  
  
Disclaimers: I don't own Mortal Kombat or anything else mentioned within my story that holds a copyright. Do love the games, though. I retain the rights to my story, however, and to the plots of all my online tales. They don't pay me to write these things, either, so you wouldn't get crap if you actually were bored enough to sue me; go sue whoever did the special effects for the Annihilation movie (PLEASE).  
  
Mortal Kombat: The Eleventh Battle  
Prologue  
  
  
Everything in the universe must balance. "For every action, there is an equal but opposite reaction." This holds true in all things, and it must remain so. If the scales of balance were to tip, to upset, the destruction of nature would follow. For every evil, there must be a good, and vice versa. Even the most horrible flood fertilizes soil, and each time the lion feeds to sustain its life, another animal is dead.  
This is necessary, the ancient Gods and Goddesses knew. No equilibrium should never be scorned. Yet, when the Universe divided, the powers of the Gods could not control everyone who would upset the Balance at once. So as the Realms were created, rules were set forth. The only way to breach another Realm from one's own would be honorable combat or deed. Thus Mortal Kombat was born: the Realm that won ten straight battles held once each generation could enter the Realm they had defeated in noble, one-on-one war.  
Outworld sought to enter the realm of Earth, and was forced to submit to the Ordains set forth by the ancient Gods. They were stopped after nine Mortal Kombats, by the Earth's greatest Champions: Liu Kang, Johnny Cage, Jax Briggs, Sonya Blade, and many others. These great Champions even bested the Emperor's plot to enter Earth and return his dead bride Sindel to the living. In reward, they were given the Champion's Right: Immortality until the next Mortal Kombat, that they might fight in the next Tournament.  
None of them had realized what that meant until it was received. The immortal Champions were sent to an Other Realm, a limbo of infinite emptiness until the next generation was called to fight; at which time, they would leave the Other Realm and be able to fight in the Tournament again. It would be fifty years before the new Tournament was initiated.  
No Champion enjoyed such a thing, but many endured the long wait patiently with the realization that they would be needed to protect their Realm.  
Sonya Blade, however, was an exception. Just before she had been granted the Champion's Right, she had given birth to a daughter, and had looked forward to raising the baby with its father, Major Jackson Briggs, or Jax, another Champion. She was never given this opportunity, and her daughter was "orphaned"; the girl would be forty-nine before Sonya was released from the reward she saw as a prison. Liu Kang, too, had been blessed with a child; the baby was only a few months old when he was removed from the Realm, but he was lucky: his baby's mother was Kitana, a Princess of Outworld whom they had been aided by in Mortal Kombat. Her race was human in the way a housecat was related to a panther, and Kitana's incredibly long lifespan would be passed to the child. The baby would scarcely appear more than twenty years old by the time the Tournament came again, and would remain so for more than a millenium.  
Rebekah knew all this. Her plan was centuries old, and the new Champions carried to one of the Other Realms had been only a minor setback. She had not expected them to win; Rebekah had been certain Outworld would overtake Earth, and then, in the destruction of the realm of Earth that would surely follow, she would enter the open Portal and murder the Emperor and anything else that stood in her way. From the moment Outworld had initiated the "entry," not even bothering to hide their plans for invasion, Rebekah had seen her chance. The Emperor had been born from her Realm, and had taken over Outworld in the same manner he planned for Earth: to win the Right of Entry, and then to destroy everything in his path that might oppose him. Rebekah had not entered Outworld at the time many of the people of her Realm had, and was uninterested in the idea of leaving: she had become a Queen in Shao Kahn's absence, ruling whatever people remained in the Realm. She had grown in strength and power, now rivaling that of Shao Kahn, and was the strongest creature any sorceress or demon could become without traveling Realms like the Emperor, absorbing powerful energy from the greatest beings in each one. She, the Great Witch, the Queen of the Realm of Sorcery, was content.  
Then, when Shao Kahn had crowned himself Emperor and demanded the Right of Entry by Kombat to Earth, she had felt the Balance tear. The Portal that he began between Earth and Outworld grew with each victory in the Tournament. As the plot to lay in wait and destroy him when he removed Earth's defenses formed in her mind, the Portal, Shao Kahn's backup plan, had also grown in strength. When the Outworld Warriors had nearly lost to Kung Lao, Liu Kang's ancestor, Shao Kahn had fully developed his plot: the mother of the girl he had claimed as his heir upon entry to Outworld-- the now-dead True King's daughter, Princess Kitana-- had been slain by her "loving husband" Shao Kahn. Sindel, the Empress of Outworld, who had been no less evil than the Emperor himself, was sacrificed, and her spirit was trapped on Earth. When Shao Kahn had lost the last Mortal Kombat, he had revived Sindel, using her corrupted soul to gain entry through the Portal... but the Champions defeated him once more, thwarting his plan with the aid of an "unholy power" the Emperor could not fathom: Rebekah.  
But the Portal remained. Shao Kahn was a patient sorcerer, and had discovered a hole in the sequence of battle to gain entry to Earth. The Gods of Old had placed another rule of the Mortal Kombat laws: if there were nine battles won, and only one-- the tenth-- lost, the eleventh Tournament could be fought. If the Emperor won, he could enter Earth. If he lost, however, Earth could overrun Outworld in the same mannerism. (Which was an option the Earth would no doubt fore-go; they had no such ambitions.) If he entered, though, he would not use the Portal; when the unseen power had stopped him from executing the use the Portal was originally created for, Shao Kahn had abandoned any thought of using it, as fighting Rebekah's power would take long centuries of researching the power before he could unlock the secrets. He had no knowledge of her newly-gained strength that matched his own, having severed all ties between Outworld and his previous Realm to prevent a rival from such a powerful dimension.  
He did not know that she would, when and if the Eleventh Tournament was won by Outworld, use the Portal for her own means and enter. She had developed a spell that would thrust her from the Realm of Shao Kahn's birth to whichever he inhabited by the Portal's magics. As his successor in his former Realm, she had the right to use such a spell; the Gods had not bothered to destroy the magic that would allow her to do so and disrupt their precious Balance. They had been fools, to trust that each and every creature and human and demon would do nothing as dishonorable as the illegal Portal!  
And the old, wise Elders of Earth were just as laughable. They had not looked into the "slight disturbance of the fabric of space" they had felt at the start of the Mortal Kombats they would fight. Many of the Realms had been challenged previously in the Tournament's ways; Earth had not, which was probably one reason Shao Kahn had sought to challenge it next. The Elders, too, believed Shao Kahn would be honorable, and had assumed the disturbance was natural. As the Elders were forgotten, their descendants training warriors and using magic to find others, the disturbance of the Portal had been forgotten.  
Earth was defenseless. Only a few scrawny humans stood between Rebekah and her Quest.  
The last variable in the equation had been the Champions. None of them knew the rule of the Eleventh Battle. They would assume it was the beginning of ten, and with their frustrations at losing their lives on Earth to protect their Realm-- the two children, the career of Johnny Cage's, etc.-- who knew if they would continue the virtuous duty they were assumed to fulfill? They would be in complete shock when Shao Kahn took over, and by the time they realized their mistake, it would be far too late.  
The Emperor was willing to take that chance; Rebekah was not. If Earth won, her Quest could become very difficult indeed. Outworld would be weakened, and the Emperor had nearly been killed last time. She needed his powers, which would be restored fully after the Tournament; the Emperor was allowed to use very little magic by the rules of Mortal Kombat. He was able to be destroyed in the Tournament, but without the rules to govern him, he would be nearly unstoppable, by anyone... save by his successor, the Witch Rebekah. Once she murdered him, she would rule unchallenged.  
So she couldn't allow the Champions to win, or even to weaken Shao Kahn too much. The outcome could be disastrous, especially with the Thunder God Rayden and the Princess Kitana thrown into the mix. So Rebekah would devise another spell that would stop the Champions from entering directly. Unfortunately, the magic that insisted they be able to fight was unstoppable, being as it was bound into the fabric of the Universe itself; her only chance was to keep them from leaving by any means other than the possession of a body on Earth. If they could find a way to do so, she would be surprised; the binding spell would take them by surprise, and it was difficult to master possession for the greatest of Witches.  
Only one thing caught Rebekah by surprise: Shao Kahn had discovered an amendment to the Eleventh Battle law. The Eleventh Battle was optional! If the Emperor didn't wish the fight to continue, he didn't have to exercise the Eleventh Mortal Kombat-- and was given fully one quarter-century to decide. As the Elders' descendants on Earth had forgotten many of the old laws, their warriors would certainly not be ready in time... and Shao Kahn demanded the Eleventh Battle be fought only eighteen years after the Tenth!  
She was enraged. Her binding of the Champions had been completed in time, but it would end up a boon instead of a hindrance: they could possess the unprepared warriors of Earth! The New Champions hadn't even begun training, and wouldn't for a few years yet-- the Old Gods' stupidity!-- but now Earth's previous Champions were now free to possess hapless passers-by and turn them into deadly fighters, by her own hand!  
Shao Kahn would pay for this, for causing her to err, and so would Earth. All would know Rebekah's wrath.  
The Tournament would finish as quickly as it was begun, she decided: Rebekah would fight in Mortal Kombat. She would bring dissension among the warriors of Earth; weaken and confuse them, and destroy some of the soldiers of Outworld who might be a threat to her plan to reign. Shang Tsung, for example: he was a dangerous demon and sorcerer, and she dared not take on both he and the Emperor at the same time, especially when they were both strengthened from the souls they would devour from Earth's people. The idea of her being on Earth's side would also hide her from any Outworld warriors who might discover and thwart her plan.  
As Shao Kahn initiated the Tournament of Mortal Kombat, Rebekah stepped through the Portal. 


	2. Chapter One

Mortal Kombat: The Eleventh Battle  
Chapter One  
  
Author's Notes: **** means beginning/end of a flashback. ' ' encloses thoughts.  
  
Cora Andrews stared with interest out her second-story bedroom window at the house next door, watching the new family move in. They looked pretty normal; mother, father, teenage guy that couldn't have been much older than she was. She hoped he was nice; especially at a time like this, she could use someone to hang with.  
Even as she thought it, the guy looked up, smiled at her, and waved, then went back to unloading boxes from the moving truck. Embarrassed, she left the window seat and headed over to her desk, avoiding looking at the empty twin bed not far from hers.  
Cora sighed, pulling her chemistry text book from her book bag and setting it on her desktop. A silver picture frame caught her eye, staring at her from its customary spot near the computer.  
Two smiling teenage girls gazed back at her: Cora and her older adoptive sister, Hannah Briggs. Cora's red hair gleamed in the lights of the amusement park where the photo had been taken, shining brightly in stark contrast to Hannah's dark, tight spiral curls. Hannah's arm was around Cora's shoulder in a companionable manner; her full lips grinned at the camera over beautiful, straight teeth Cora envied. The two looked nothing alike, and had often been given a strange look when they insisted they were sisters. With a sigh, Cora turned the frame face-down, determined to concentrate on her homework, but unable to think of anything but Hannah.  
When they were younger, Hannah had been a runaway. No one knew anything about her past, only that she was an orphan who had never met her parents. The girl had escaped every foster house or group home she'd been put in, and had lived on the streets for long stretches at a time, hanging out with other runaways and homeless people, sleeping in abandoned warehouse or empty lots. Hannah had been an expert at it; she'd learned to defend herself with both a knife and her bare hands, in addition to what she called "standard knowledge"-- jumping even the most difficult barbed-wire fence; moving silently; hiding in shadows; how to get away from any pursuer, be it an attacker on the street or the police. "Standard," indeed!  
Hannah had been only thirteen when Cora's foster family, the Andrews, had sought to adopt her. Hannah had run from them numerous times, but not without befriending Cora. The two had become close, developing an almost spiritual bond like identical twins. It got so that when Hannah ran away in the middle of the night, Cora would wake up in a sweat, find her gone, and run to tell their adoptive parents.  
Hannah was never pissed off about that, especially since the time the police had found her in an alley, about to be mugged by a guy with the gun. If Cora hadn't woken up and alerted someone so soon after Hannah had left, Hannah might have died; but mainly, Hannah was never angry simply because she liked Cora as a friend and sister, a bond Hannah had never found with anyone else. But the Andrews, though kind people, were soon desperate to stop Hannah from running, and had sent her to a mental hospital for a while.  
It was there she had told someone other than Cora Hannah's darkest secret: sometimes, mostly at night, she'd hear her mother's voice, and would talk to her. Though no one had any idea who Hannah's mother was, Hannah insisted her name was Sonya Blade, and that Sonya and a few other voices would speak to her. One was her father, whose name was supposedly Jackson Briggs, the other her mother's friends, and Sonya insisted that though she couldn't see Hannah for a while, she was still alive.  
The police had run checks on both parents' names; though Sonya Blade and Jackson Briggs had been missing since Hannah's birth, there was no evidence that they were Hannah's parents, and the length they'd been missing meant that, legally, they were declared dead.  
Hannah had been medicated for her "hallucinations," becoming so out of it from side effects she no longer had the strength to run away. The meds hadn't worked, however, and Cora would still awaken in the night. Only she would discover Hannah crying, or talking to Sonya aloud instead of in the silent manner she had before. Cora would stir in her sleep and see Hannah sitting in her old spot on the window seat, but rather than staring quietly out into the night, Hannah would be babbling or in tears.  
It had unnerved Cora to see her sister in such a state, and Hannah had confided in her that sometimes she wished the voices WOULD stop, and then the medication and the doctors would all go away. Hannah's hearing things had changed only in that she doubted the voices truth, and her sanity, and herself. Finally, Cora had asked Hannah why she couldn't simply pretend she didn't hear Sonya or her father, and then the doctors would leave her alone. "What about the voices?" Hannah had said miserably.  
"Well," Cora had replied softly, "maybe they'll go away on their own, maybe not. But you hear them whether you're on pills or not, Hannah. At least you were happy without the medicine."  
Hannah had stared at her for a second, blinked, and then nodded. From then on, she'd pretended she could barely hear voices anymore. Hannah was smart enough to put up a pretense of it getting better slowly, knowing no doctor would believe an overnight recovery. But after awhile, they let her stop taking medication, and Cora was gripped by new fear: that Hannah would start running away again.  
But she hadn't. The fear of medicine and the mental hospital kept her from even trying to run again, and she and Cora became inseparable. Cora still secretly worried, however, that when Hannah turned eighteen, and couldn't legally be dragged back to her adoptive parents, she would leave again, and renew the search for what she'd been looking for all those years on the streets: her parents.  
A month ago, Hannah HAD turned eighteen, and had told Cora she was leaving within a few weeks. She wouldn't tell Cora where she was going, only that it was important, and that she had "things to do" before she got there.  
Cora had tried to talk her out of it, or to at least find out where-- and why-- she was going. Hannah had only told her a little, before she left...  
  
****  
  
"I have to go," Hannah said for the twelfth time. "When you've been selected..." she trailed off.  
"For what?" Cora demanded.  
Hannah sighed. "Cora, I'm not cut out to go to college or start working nine-to-five. You know that. I need to learn what I AM cut out for. And the only way for me to accomplish that is to accept this invitation."  
Cora glanced down at the large wax circle Hannah showed her. A dragon writhed within the circle, both frightening and powerful-looking. On the attached parchment was written, "Once a generation, the great Tournament is held. The best warriors on Earth shall meet their destiny in Mortal Kombat."  
"Are you sure this isn't a joke?" Cora asked skeptically. "I mean, 'Mortal Kombat?' They can't even spell!"  
"I'm sure," Hannah replied, smiling at Cora's joke. Then her face darkened. "Cora... Sonya and Jax fought in Mortal Kombat. Right before they disappeared."  
"They asked you to go, didn't they," Cora said, referring to the voices Hannah still heard.  
"No." Hannah swallowed. She looked away. "I haven't been able to hear them in a week and a half."  
"What?"  
"I can't hear them anymore," she repeated. "But, Cora... the last time I talked to them, they asked me not to go. And I asked them why not, did they expect me to fail, to die. Then, I... I heard this new voice, like nothing I'd ever heard speak, in my mind or not. He-- I'm pretty sure it was a he-- said, "It is not about death, but life. Mortal Kombat is your destiny, as it was the destiny of the warriors of generations.' Ever since, I haven't heard a single thing."  
Cora simply stared at her. "'Destiny of the warriors of generations?'"  
Hannah nodded. "I did some research, and Sonya told me a bit about the Tournament when I was younger. It's held once a generation, and only the best fighters are asked to come."  
"Are you sure you're that good?" Cora wanted to know. Hannah was good, yes-- but best? In the world?  
"No, I didn't think I was," Hannah said. "Sonya was upset when I told her I got the invitation. She had never thought..." Hannah shook her head. "If the invitation comes to me, there's only one way I'll ever know if I'm one of the best or not. I'm going. I have too."  
  
****  
  
Cora frowned at the memories swirling inside her. Hannah was a deadly fighter, she knew, maybe one of the greats-- maybe. Cora had asked her to teach Cora to fight, and Hannah had showed Cora enough to be good... but Cora had seen Hannah practicing self-taught martial arts and other fighting techniques in secret, moves that were fierce and perfected. Cora had watched Hannah study and develop skill she'd never disclosed to Cora... and then Cora had copied her sister. While Hannah practiced, Cora would hide in the shadows of the basement, mimicking her sister's style and adding a bit of her own. Even when Hannah had been weakened by that damn medicine, Cora had practiced, on her own time, in addition to when Hannah used to work out in the basement. She had no idea why Hannah kept her best techniques secret; maybe she'd wanted to protect Cora or something. Whatever the reason, Cora was able to match her kick for kick, though maybe her style of fighting was a bit different, personalized. Still, Cora was probably as good as Hannah... at least as good.  
"And she's the best, huh?"  
The quiet musing startled her, and she felt as if someone else had spoken it. Still, for a moment, she wondered what it would be like at Mortal Kombat; fighting the best warriors in the world, if the rumors Hannah had dug up and the scroll were to be believed. Cora Andrews, the shy, quiet little redhead, kicking ass with the best...  
She shook her head ruefully. She wasn't Hannah; she was going to college, and she'd be a doctor, maybe a pediatrician. Not some kind of... what? Stunt-person? What could Hannah do as a fighter... a body guard, a cop, a Special Forces member like Sonya Blade was supposed to have been? There were tournaments, and action movies... maybe Hannah could do something like that. Cora wasn't that type of personality.  
Was she?  
She entertained the notion for a second, wondering if maybe one day, she could be good enough to be invited to fight with the best at as young as eighteen... two years away. Cora's mind filled with fantasies of the Tournament, of all the possibilities. Then she shoved the thoughts aside, filling her mind with school work and the chemical reaction of copper with sodium chloride. She scrawled the answer, then cursed as her pencil lead snapped. Yanking open her desk drawers, she searched irritably for a sharpener. Then, in the bottom drawer...  
It was the wax circle with the dragon's head, the symbol of the Mortal Kombat Tournament, with the scroll-like invitation attached by a green ribbon. Hannah's summons to the Tournament! But...  
"I saw her take it with her," Cora whispered thoughtfully. "She put it in her book bag. I'm POSITIVE she took it."  
She swallowed hard, suddenly nervous as she stared at the stylized dragon's head. It was captivating, at once dangerous and beautiful... and somehow, Cora felt chilled, uneasy. Something was off about the scroll and the dragon's disc, but she couldn't put her finger on it for the life of her.  
She shoved it back in its drawer, attacking her chemistry homework with a vengeance. Sodium chloride had an oxidation number of negative one, but copper had two possible ones, positive five or positive two...  
There was a huge crashing noise from next door, making her nearly fling her new pencil across the room. She flew to the window.  
The teenage guy's father was yelling at whoever was driving the moving van, who had just driven into two large metal trash cans and sent them flying. Cora smiled as the man's face turned almost purple, the guy who'd smiled at her earlier trying to keep his father calm.  
Relieved no one was hurt, she went back to her desk. With a sigh, she closed her text book; it was only Saturday. She still had tomorrow to finish it.  
  
Justin had finally got his dad to quit breathing fire, and his thoughts were quickly returning to the girl he'd seen in the window next door. She'd looked maybe fifteen or sixteen, only a year or two younger, and she was pretty, that was for sure. Long, shiny red hair, big blue eyes, pale skin... maybe he'd see her at school on Monday.  
He turned to grab another box, and there she was, smiling at him tentatively. "I'm Cora," she said, holding out her hand. He shook it. "I just thought I'd see if you needed any help."  
He shrugged. "Yeah, sure. I'm Justin... good to meet you."  
She nodded. They lapsed into awkward silence for a moment, and then he grabbed the box. "These go in the living room," he added, not sure whether he should feel weird about her helping lift their heavy crap or relieved he was getting a chance to talk to her. She smiled, though, and lifted a large crate. He led her inside.  
"So, you're our new neighbors, right?" Justin asked. She flushed as she set the box down, apparently embarrassed, though Justin really couldn't have cared less she'd been watching them move from her window.  
"Yeah," she replied. "We'll probably be going to high school together, so I thought I'd come introduce myself. You DO go to high school, right?" He nodded. "Cool. Know anything about chemistry?" She blushed deeper. "I mean..." She trailed off, realizing her cheerful comment probably sounded a little flirtatious.  
"I know what you meant," he said with a smile, though he DEFINITELY wouldn't have minded it if she'd been flirting. "A little, yeah. Mostly I'm better at English, though."  
She nodded again, reaching for another box on the front lawn and lifting it easily, though he knew it was heavy-- it was a bunch of his awards from karate, heavy trophies and plaques. She stared into the open box in surprise. "You take martial arts?" she wanted to know.  
"Yeah," he said.  
"You must be good," she said, carrying the box inside. "Or maybe that's an understatement," she amended, setting down the heavy box.  
"I'm okay," he admitted. "I'm a black belt."  
She lifted her eyebrows in surprise. "Wow. And you're, what, seventeen? Eighteen?"  
"Seventeen," he replied.  
"What degree are you?"  
Justin looked at her questioningly. "I know a bit about martial arts," Cora explained. "My sister..."  
Her face darkened, but she didn't finish. He decided to let it go. "In karate, third degree," he said, "but I've studied a lot of other styles."  
"Damn," Cora said, impressed. "That's some tough skill. You should have met Hannah."  
"Who?"  
"My sister," she told him, looking down at the trophies with a far-away gleam in her eye. "She loved the fighting arts, but never got any formal training. She left a week ago. So, do you like video games?"  
  
Cora could see he was startled by the abrupt change in subject, but he seemed like the type of person who minded his own business... and expected the same. One thing she was good at was reading people; she could tell a lot about a person by the way they held themselves, the way they spoke, the way they talked.  
She listened as Justin told her his opinion on games, helping him carry boxes and bags and luggage, telling him about how she adored video games, especially Tekken and Zelda. Then something caught her eye as she set a suitcase by the box of trophies. Something familiar.  
There, half-hidden amidst Justin's awards, was a dragon's head on a wax disc, a scroll of parchment attached to it with a yellow ribbon. 


	3. Chapter Two

Mortal Kombat: The Eleventh Battle  
Chapter Two  
  
  
Jason flopped lazily on his bed and picked up a stack of mail, reading the return addresses and promotions off the envelopes.  
"Credit card offer... trash. Earn your diploma at home... trash. Sponser an overseas orphan... trash. 'To the parents of Jason Harris'... definitely trash-- hey, what's this?"  
It was a plain, brown cardboard box, with his name and address on it, but no stamps or return address. He shrugged and opened the small box, pulled out the contents, and tossed the box in the garbage can with the rest of his mail.  
A red wax disk dominated by a black dragon's head was tied to a rolled-up piece of paper with a blue ribbon, the words 'Mortal Kombat' written in old-fashioned script on the parchment. He unfastened the ribbon and set the disk on his desk, promptly setting his can of Dr. Pepper on it. Then he unrolled the paper carefully and began to read.  
"'Once a generation, the great Tournament is held. The best warriors on Earth shall meet their destiny in Mortal Kombat.  
"'You have been chosen to defend the realm of Earth in the Eleventh Battle. Should you choose to accept your fate, the Tournament awaits.'"  
"Trash..." Jason muttered, but half-heartedly. Something struck him as odd about the symbol on the flat disk, something strangely familiar. "Eleventh Battle," he mused. It meant nothing to him, but the dragon...  
He sat bolt-upright as a sudden thought occurred to him. Swallowing heavily, Jason dashed to his closet.  
When he was younger, maybe seven, he had hated the martial arts classes his father insisted he attend. His dad had been one of the world's greatest fighters, though, and Jason knew it would be important to the old guy to carry on the skill. His father had died not long after Jason made green belt in the forth grade, and (especially when his mother remarried) Jason had fought even harder for improvement. He kept his dad's old trophies and things out of sight in the back of his closet; Jason's stepfather would say he was being sentimental and then give him some speech about how "You've got me, now, Jason, blah, blah, blah." Jason dug through shoes and dirty clothes until he found what he was looking for and dragged it out, kicking the rest of the crap back into the closet and shutting the door.  
He moved the drink can and lifted up the wax circle carefully, almost reverently. Setting it down, he reached for his father's favorite uniform belt.  
When he'd first put all his dad's favorite things in his closet, the belt had puzzled him. His dad wore it every time he put on his uniform, the plain black side facing outward. Until Jason had packed it away, he'd never noticed that on the side turned inward was a symbol, a dragon's head in a circle; his father had not once displayed the side with the dragon.  
The dragon that looked the same as the one on the wax disk.  
  
Calista moved through the woods quickly, towards the clearing in the center of the forest. She came here every day after school without fail to practice her technique, her skills in the fighting arts.  
Aunt Jade had assumed Calista had no love for the fighting arts her mother had praised, but Calista found it the only connection she had to her mother; the only thing she knew about the woman who had given her life was that she had been a skilled fighter. Jade would tell her nothing else, only that her mother was dead and Jade had no idea who Calista's father was. Calista didn't buy that for a second.  
She dropped her book bag unceremoniously and stretched, limbering her muscles before launching into her routine. She kicked and spun at invisible opponents, hands flying in fast, strong punches and chops. She was so intent on her practice that she didn't feel the presence behind her, the warning feeling she felt when someone was around.  
"Callie."  
Calista stopped in mid-kick, amazed, then cursing herself for not listening to her emotions. Calista didn't know why she felt the presence of others or how she knew; she simply did, and that was enough for her.  
She turned and regarded Jade calmly. The woman stood, her expression blank as she looked at her niece, wearing a green, form-fitting top and black pants. "What are you doing here?" Jade asked in Calista's native language, Chinese.  
"I always come here," Calista said simply. "I did not realize you knew of it."  
"I knew of it before you were born!" Jade snapped. Calista's eyes widened in surprise. "How long have you been coming here?"  
"Since I was a child," Calista replied, taken aback by her aunt's attitude.  
"You are still a child," Jade said coldly. "I have been worried sick over where you were."  
"You came home early?" Calista demanded.  
Jade's eyes narrowed. "You come here every day, don't you," she asked, but it wasn't a question. She no longer sounded angry, and her eyes softened.  
Calista nodded. Jade sighed. "Do you know this place?" Jade asked suddenly. "What this place is?"  
"What? No," Calista said, confused. "I was just walking in the forest one day, and..."  
Jade smiled, and the sadness in her face made Calista trail off. "Callie, she said, choosing her words carefully, "This is where your parents first met."  
Her niece simply stared at her in shock, unable to speak. Jade had never once offered information about her parents, and had insisted she knew nothing of Calista's father. "Tell me about them," Calista pleaded. "About my parents."  
Jade seemed to sag a little, and she beckoned to Calista to sit down with her beneath a tree. Jade didn't look at her "niece" as she spoke. Jade swallowed and began to tell Calista everything the girl had always wanted to know.  
"Kitana, your mother, was my cousin, not my sister," Jade said slowly, looking away from Calista's surprised stare. "She was a princess, her father a king."  
"Of China?" Calista said incredulously.  
Jade laughed without humor, shaking her head. "No, my child, not China, of course not. Your father was Chinese. Kitana and I... we are not Earth-born."  
"What?!"  
Jade smiled, her gaze distant. "There are other worlds, Callie," she continued gently. "Ours was... is... called Outworld. Callie..." she frowned, trying another tactic. "You are nearly nineteen, yet you appear no more than fourteen. Have you ever wondered why?"  
"It's... it's just one of those things," Callie said, sounding doubtful. "Some girls are short, I..." Calista stopped, thoughts swirling through her head. Somehow, she felt as though her aunt... no, cousin... was speaking the truth, but that was simply insane! People weren't born of other worlds, other planets, and...  
'And Jade isn't crazy, and she isn't lying. You can sense it when a person does both.'  
The thought struck her like a blow. Jade was staring at her, reading her expression carefully. "Calista," she said softly. "You can sense when people are near. You can sense the nature of animals and humans alike. You know their thoughts sometimes, as though you could read them in your heart. You know if a person is lying or holding something back. You've known all your life I knew something more of your parents. You can comprehend so much more in moments of thought than grown men and women can in years. You do not age at the same rate as others. Have you ever wondered why?"  
"Yes," Calista whispered, her voice choking.  
"It is because your mother was not human. I am not human, and you are only part. My precious girl... when you are one hundred years old, you will appear no more than twenty."  
"No." Calista shook her head. "That's crazy. That's stupid, Aunt Jade."  
Jade laughed her mirthless chuckle once more. "Come, Callie. I seem twenty-seven in the eyes of every human on the face of the planet. I have seemed so since you were born, and you know it."  
"That doesn't mean anything--"  
"Hush." Jade's voice was firm, if kind. She turned and gazed into the forest, as though she were seeing something far away. "Outworld was beautiful once, blessed with peace and prosperity. It was paradise, a Utopia. Its citizens were very much like angels. Youth was enjoyed for millennia, until it was nearly eternal, and beings thousands of years old were as young and vibrant as the strongest, healthiest humans twenty years of age. The king, Kitana's father, was the oldest being I could remember. Thirty-two thousand, seven hundred fifty-one years old at the time, and appeared no more than forty-five. His sister was my mother, a woman named Ruby, and his daughter was heir to the throne: Kitana, my cousin.  
"I was so envious, so full of hate for your mother I could have burst. She was a princess, and I no more than a Duchess's daughter. She was beautiful, more so than I, I suppose; my hair always looked dull next to her shining black, my smile much less cheerful. I grew to hate the Princess, for the crime of being more important than I. And then, disaster struck."  
"What was that," Calista asked listlessly.  
"Outworld was invaded," Jade said grimly. "By a cruel, hideous creature who crowned himself Emperor. We fought him, our people, for ten generations of time: five hundred years. Each great battle, he won. Then he stepped into our world and laid waste to everything in his path. The king was killed, and his wife was married to the Emperor, a sorcerer called Shao Kahn. Kitana was adopted as his heir now, and my fury grew.  
"Ruby, my mother, died in the eighth battle," Jade went on. She paused, frowning. "Yes, I believe it was eighth. Time is hard to track sometimes when it spans so long. No matter. Shao Kahn gripped our beautiful, heavenly world with his evil fist, shattering like glass. He appointed me, however, to the head of his Royal Warriors, as Kitana was--" Jade's voice was bitter-- "too important to expend in battle. I led his best fighters, men and women born of both Outworld and his own fierce realm, against the Earth in the same battles that my glorious home had lost."  
"Why?" Calista asked suddenly. She blinked, taking a moment to convince herself she DID NOT BELIEVE Jade's story, then added, "Shao Kahn destroyed your home, didn't he?"  
"Yes," Jade admitted, and for a second before she turned her head, Calista thought she saw tears fill Jade's eyes. "I didn't care. I wanted others to suffer as I had. And... well, I knew that when I led the warriors against Earth and conquered it, I would finally be better than Kitana!"  
Jade's hand clenched into fists, and she sighed. Her tone became passionless once more. "The seventh battle was when I came to notice Kitana was acting strangely. She snuck out from her royal chambers and I followed her. She went and spoke with an Earth fighter, a man named Kung Lao. Shocked, angry, I told my 'uncle,' the Emperor, and offered to spy on Kitana, to stop her from giving whatever aid she had supplied already. Shao Kahn refused, saying I was too close to Kitana as her only blood family... her mother had been killed for a ritual sacrifice. So he created Mileena, a clone from Kitana's own blood. He failed to mention..." Jade's voice became dark and bleak, and she took a deep breath before continuing. "He failed to mention that if Kitana was, indeed, trying to stop our conquest of Earth, Mileena was to kill her.  
"I continued to fight in the Tournaments. The Tournaments are sacred, and the only way to enter another realm-- such as Earth, from Outworld-- is to win ten straight battles. They are held every fifty years: 'once a generation,' as the Earth's fighters say, though it has nothing to do with such a thing; that is merely the time span for Earth's people. It was the last battle that, well... that Kitana fell in love with your father, to make a long story short. His name was Liu Kang--"  
"Liu Kang," Calista repeated, pleased to finally know her father's name as well as her mother's.  
"Yes, Liu Kang, the descendent of Kung Lao, who had nearly defeated Outworld in the seventh fight. Their first meeting was here, in this very glade. Your father lived in Hong Kong, at a temple, where he was trained as the Champion fighter of Lord Rayden, God of Thunder."  
"Impressive," Calista muttered. "Was he a Martian too?"  
Jade glanced at her sharply, then nodded to herself a little, as though Calista's doubt was natural. "Your father was Chinese, as I said," Jade answered with a small sigh. "He practiced his fighting skills in this forest as often as he slept and more. One night during the Tournament, I couldn't sleep. It was the final battle, after all; when we won the fight, we could conquer Earth. I guess... after five hundred years, I was having doubts. Kitana was my cousin, and before we had grown apart by our royal status, we had been so close... I used to respect your mother like no one else, Callie. I was beginning to feel that maybe she was right to help Earth, to prevent the destruction that had been bestowed upon Outworld. Plus..." She stopped.  
"Yeah?" Calista prompted, moved by the emotion-- emotion Jade rarely showed-- in the woman's voice.  
"I'd fallen in love," she said sheepishly. "A ninja, named Smoke. He was just as dark as I was, but the feeling I had for him softened some of the hate in me, I guess. Though he swore he was mine alone, I began to think he was sporting with Mileena. I would awaken sometimes at night, and they would both be gone; no one would see them leave, yet the guards new the passing of every person on the royal grounds. Everyone except them. I was filled with suspicion, burning with it, and during the Tournament, eighteen years ago, I woke in the night and followed Smoke as he snuck out from the palace. I already knew that Mileena had left secretly; I did not know, however, that Kitana was gone as well. Smoke led me here, to this forest, and I saw a glimpse of pink in the shadows ahead of him-- Mileena. I could feel their presence, as I can feel the presence of any living thing. But I also felt two more beings, and I moved away from where Smoke was spying on the clearing where we now sit. Mileena was watching from only a few hundred feet to my left, on the other side of Smoke. I saw what they were seeing, and my heart leaped into my throat."  
"What did you see?" Calista demanded.  
"Your mother, making out with Liu Kang." The look on Calista's face was so startled that Jade laughed uproariously, and Calista had to smile as well. "I was just as shocked as you are," Jade said ruefully. "I never expected to see such a thing! Then..." Her eyes clouded once more. "Then, someone grabbed me from behind, pinned my arms and clapped their hands over my mouth. Before I could render my attacker the worse for wear, I realized it was Smoke. He released me, spun me around angrily, demanded to know what I was doing. I told him I had followed him, and why. The look in his eyes was clearly hurt. 'I'm watching Mileena,' he said harshly. 'She plans to murder the princess, and I don't plan to let her.'  
"'Why would she do such a thing?' I demanded, still suspicious. 'She would never kill the woman she calls sister!'  
"'Shao Kahn has ordered her too.' The words chilled my blood. 'He is a fool if he thinks the Outworlders will stand for the murder of Kitana! We would have civil war! Too many remain who could do nothing of the king's death, and cared nothing for Queen Sindel, who still love the princess!'  
"At that moment, I heard Kitana and Liu begin to speak, and I felt the presence of Mileena watching them. Kitana was telling her beloved how to best Shang Tsung, the Emperor's best sorcerer, a demon who stole the soul of every warrior he killed. I heard Smoke whisper, 'That bitch.' Before I knew what I was doing, I had punched him furiously, and..."  
Calista could tell Jade was trying not to sob. "I killed him," she said miserably. "I... I didn't mean to hurt him, but... he fell, his head hit something in the woods. He was dead in seconds. And as I stared in horror, I felt Liu Kang's presence waning as he left... and Mileena, she charged Kitana, and the two fought viciously. I was able to collect myself, and I killed Mileena, stopped her from killing Kitana. Then, however... I had to face Shao Kahn. He would have killed me, but the next day Kitana had vanished. I told him I had murdered her, and Mileena as well, for the crime of killing Smoke. He was furious, though; I had slain Mileena without his approval, and she was an asset to the battle against Earth's warriors. He banished me to Earth, and condemned me to be slaughtered when Outworld took control after the end of the Tournament... and not long after that, the Tournament was won, by Earth. Your father was among the victors, and he was granted the Champion's Right, to fight in the next Tournament. I hadn't counted on Earth's victory, and I was spared. I was relieved, but confused, also... you see, after the tenth Tournament, there shouldn't be another. It is won or lost, but Champion's Rights are exercised only until the last Tournament: the Champions are sent to another plane of existence until the next fight. I had no idea what had happened to Liu Kang, but I honestly didn't care; he was nothing to me. I only hoped that Kitana was somehow with him. And then, one day, she came to me, appeared on my doorstep, and handed me you. And she told me everything, that she had been helping Earth's warriors for centuries. She told me about the glade where she first met Liu, and warned him of the powers of Outworld. She told me that you were his daughter, and she named you Calista. She told me to take care of you."  
"And then what?" Calista held her breath.  
"She vanished," Jade said simply. "She simply disappeared, and from that day forth, you were my niece."  
Calista sat back against a tree, her expression thoughtful. Something had always told her, every day of her life, when someone was lying. Nothing came to her now but truth. It was frightening to consider the story as reality, but Calista knew in her heart that it WAS reality. It was also the only way to answer her questions of the slight powers inside her-- never tiring from physical exertion, the way she learned, how quickly she healed from a cut and never left a scar. Not to mention the ability to know truth.  
"Why are you telling me this now, Jade?" Calista said softly. "Why not earlier, or later?"  
Jade swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. "For every Tournament, the warriors are chosen. They call the fight 'Mortal Kombat,' and few, if any, deny the invitation to fight in the great Tournament. I thought the tenth was the last, but the I discovered something called the Eleventh Battle. There is one more Tournament, and your father cannot return until it is won."  
Jade pulled something from the pocket of her slacks: a wax disk with a dragon's head. "I saw it in the mail box today," Jade said, overcome with emotion. "You've been chosen for the great Tournament of Mortal Kombat." 


	4. Chapter Three

Mortal Kombat: The Eleventh Battle  
Chapter Three  
  
  
Daozi stepped into the desert sun, feeling refreshed and energized. He had felt the Balance tip, had been unnerved by the evil motion his people could sense in the fabric of the Universe. Daozi had long known his place on Earth was to preside as High Priest over his people, to keep watch over the delicate Balance. The morning's scrying had put all his fears to rest as it answered his questions.  
The Battle was upon them, the great Tournament of Mortal Kombat. Daozi's ancestors had trained warriors for centuries to compete for the fate of the Earth, including the great Kung Lao. The scrying session in the fire had spoken to the young priest Daozi of the final battle, one that must be won at all costs to stop the threat of invasion unto Earth. He was to go to the Tournament and aid Earth's fighters by any means necessary, though, much to his disappointment, he was not the Chosen One of Lord Rayden. Daozi was important to the battle, he knew, but he was not the chosen protector of the Earth. Unhappy as he was with the stolen glory, the fire had spoken, and the fire never lied. However, Daozi WAS given the duty of discovering and helping the Chosen One, an intriguing job indeed. Lord Rayden had chosen well each generation-- Kung Lao, the Japanese woman Miyuki, the Champion Liu Kang. The Chosen One this time would be just as strong, and the fire spoke of incredible, unmatched power-- the power of control over Fire.  
Daozi repeated the words from the spiritual search in the flaming oracle:  
"The Sun sets,  
The Moon awakens.  
Though the Stars ask for another,  
The Earth is not forsaken."  
It was captivating to think of, that a human could control fire, even if that person would never be Daozi. Yet something in the poem bothered him, and he couldn't quite place the problem with all the morning's knowledge still fresh in his mind--  
THE SUN SETS, THE MOON AWAKENS.  
The voice filled his mind, not his ears. The answer came to him instantly. "Water and fire. The moon, and the sun. The moon is water... and the sun... the Fire-Being!" he gasped. "He may be overpowered!"  
YES.  
Daozi stopped dead in his tracks, poised atop a cliff in the desert. He was certain he had not imagined the voice now, and he felt something within his mind, a reverent spirit that was not his own. "Who speaks?" he whispered.  
Then, slowly, She appeared... the Goddess, known by many names, shining brightly, so bright that Daozi was forced to look away or be blinded by the radiance. He knelt before Her form as the light shimmered and solidified. GAZE UPON ME, IF YOU ARE STRONG ENOUGH, DAOZI, HE WHOSE NAME MEANS "KNIFE."  
Daozi slowly raised his eyes, and saw the Goddess for only a split-second before he was rocked with pain. Her image, tanned skin and flowing black hair, wearing a dress that seemed to be made of water, flooded his thoughts as he tried to control the searing agony that came from looking upon a Goddess. No mortal could bear the sight, and he was a fool to believe he could!  
YOU ARE ARROGANT AND RASH, MY SON, the Goddess said softly, though her voice echoed loudly in his mind. YOU MUST LEARN AND REMEMBER YOUR LIMITS, YOUR STRENGTHS, IF YOU ARE TO SAVE THE REALM OF EARTH.  
"Save Earth?" he gasped, feeling the throbbing pain recede slightly. "I am not Chosen, my Lady..."  
NOT DIRECTLY, NO. YET YOU WILL BE AS IMPORTANT TO THE BATTLE AS THE FIGHTER OF LORD RAYDEN'S. YOU MUST FIND THE CHOSEN ONE, AND AID HIM. YOU MUST DISCOVER HIS ENEMY, AND THE ONE WHO CAN DEFEAT HIS ENEMY, OR ALL IS LOST. YOU MUST CONTROL THE IMPULSIVE NATURE YOU FEEL, MUST UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU CAN AND CANNOT DO. AND MOST OF ALL, YOU MUST BELIEVE.  
"Yes, my Lady," he whispered. "For you, for Earth, I will do this task."  
  
Cora sat at her desk long after dark, staring at the invitation by the light of her small, star-shaped lamp. Something still nagged in the back of her mind, something not quite right about the parchment and seal. Her mind was swimming with questions: Hannah, the invitation she was SURE Hannah had taken with her, and now Justin, with the same summon to the Tournament. She had talked with him for a few hours, met his parents, told them about the high school and given them directions to the building for Monday. She'd kept a smile plastered on her face, but her stomach felt as though she'd been gut-kicked.  
With a gusty sigh, she plucked the parchment up by its green ribbon, glaring at it jokingly. "Look what you did," she growled. "I can't sleep now. Happy?"  
Cora dropped it unceremoniously on the desk, and as she did so, it hit her. The ribbon; it was green.  
"Hannah's was red. Justin's was yellow! Oh, shit!"  
She gazed at the invitation, wide-eyed with disbelief. Her fingers trembled as she reached out to untie the green cord and unroll the parchment. She didn't even bother to read the message; what she wanted was at the end. At the bottom of Hannah's invitation had been her name.  
And at the bottom of this one was "Cora Andrews."  
  
Justin sighed, gazing down at the wax disk with the dragon's head on it thoughtfully. He'd received the invitation two weeks before, and ever since, he had been thinking about it almost non-stop.  
His parents would never approve of such a thing. They really didn't even like that he took martial arts, to say nothing of the many tournaments and contests he had won. The only reason they had ever let him start classes was because his mother had read in some goofy magazine that a child should be well-rounded, participating in athletics and music in addition to schoolwork. She'd probably been hoping he'd join golf or softball or something, but he insisted on karate; he'd been a major Ninja Turtles fan at the time. But karate and tae kwan do and judo and jujitsu gave him exactly what he needed: self-control.  
Justin stared at his hands for a split-second. Slowly at first, the palms began to glow with an inner light. He looked down at the dragon symbol, wondering about the message's words. Distracted, his hands suddenly flared with orange fire, nearly singing his face.  
He brought the fire under control, cursing himself for the lack of concentration. Justin had known for years that all he needed to master the fire was to think, to find the will power within himself. The discipline of martial arts had helped him to keep from destroying anything he touched; the fire would glow within him when he was angered or otherwise emotional, and several times it had leaped past his ability to concentrate... with disastrous results.  
Justin's thoughts turned to the first time he felt the fire within his body, when he'd been six and hadn't been able to comprehend a math problem. Before he knew it, his homework had burst into flames.  
He actually smiled as he thought of how he'd handled the problem; the first grade had been taught the importance of Stop, Drop and Roll well. He'd thrown the paper on the kitchen tile and jumped on it, rolling his body over the paper. He'd been hard-pressed by his parents to explain why the shirt he'd been wearing that day had gone missing, but they never discovered he'd tossed the burnt rags in the trash.  
His face darkened, though, as he recalled the last time he'd lost control of the strange fire that burned within his body...  
  
****  
  
Chemistry class was a pretty cool class for Justin; one of his favorites, in fact. They were working on a lab experiment of mixing various chemicals and recording the results. His lab partner, who also happened to be his girlfriend, was chatting away about some rerun of Sienfeld, handing him the appropriate flask or beaker as she prattled on about George and Jerry and Kramer. His attention had been divided between her story and the chemicals, but he was pretty sure Amy was writing down the right results anyway.  
"So, like, they're lost in this parking garage, right?" Amy was saying. "And then, like, George says--"  
"Blah, blah, blah," a voice interrupted. "I'm trying to think over here, Amy."  
"And you actually think you're going to succeed?" Justin said mildly. "I doubt it, Chris."  
"Screw you, man," Chris snapped. He narrowed his eyes at Justin. He'd been dating Amy maybe two months before, but she hadn't been able to stand him. She told him she had feelings for someone else-- a lie, really; she just wanted out of the relationship and was too nice to say she thought Chris was a moron-- and now, though Justin had only been with Amy three weeks, Chris assumed Justin was the root of all evil and the reason Amy had dumped him.  
"No thanks," Justin replied calmly, stirring powder into a liquid compound. "Hey, Ames, can you go grab some more hydrochloric?"  
She nodded and left, giving Chris-- who was sitting on the other side of her-- a smug glance. When she came back, Chris yanked the high lab stool out from under her, and she fell.  
Amy yelped, her head cracking against the metal stool, her feet flying up and kicking over a Bunsen burner (which was thankfully turned off). "You dick!" Justin screamed at Chris, a flask of powder cracking in his hands as he clenched his fists. Chris merely laughed, and Justin glared angrily at him as Amy got to her feet. Then Chris's eyes widened in alarm. Amy backed away from Justin hurriedly.  
The flask of powder was burning in his hands. Justin hadn't even noticed, but by now flaming chemical fire was falling to the floor, catching the wooden table on fire.  
Chris had scrambled away as the fire ate at the table, staring fearfully at Justin. Amy's gaze was pure shock. Justin could do nothing but look at her, watching her eyes fill with terror and horror. "What's WRONG with you?" she whispered.  
"Ames--"  
"Stay away from me!" she yelled, and at that moment, the fire reached the chemicals on the lab table.  
The teacher screamed at them to run, and went quickly for his fire extinguisher. It barely dimmed the flames, and Justin began to choke on the smoke. He knew the teacher was still in the room, knew the teacher would be burned alive but couldn't see where he was for the smoke, couldn't hear for the roaring crackle of the flames. He searched frantically through the growing inferno, trying to find Mr. Morgia, even as the fire department arrived. By the time they quenched the chemical fire, all they found intact in the burned classroom was Justin, untouched by the heat...  
... and Mr. Morgia's blackened corpse.  
  
****  
  
Justin swallowed, sorrow and grief etched on his face. At first he'd been angry about it-- angry at the teacher, angry at Chris, angry at himself. But he ran out of anger quickly, and only pain was left.  
The other kids had escaped, and word had gotten around that Justin had started the fire with the Bunsen burner. Amy refused to speak to him, and Chris would turn around and walk quickly away any time he saw Justin. At least they'd kept their mouths shut. That was something.  
But not enough. The school blamed him for the fire, but since they couldn't prove anything no charges were filed, though the principal made it clear that if any evidence showed up he'd be charged with both arson and manslaughter in the first degree over Morgia. When the cops said it would be nearly impossible to track what had happened, Justin went from "threat of legal action" to "there's the ass hole who burned Mr. Morgia alive" in the hallways. Soon his parents decided a fresh start would be best for all of them, and had found the nice little house in the suburbs in Oregon. Justin didn't really care; no one would know anything about the chemistry class accident here, and that was worth losing any friends that stuck by him, his neighborhood, everything.  
He hadn't been invited to participate in a tournament since before the fire, so the invitation with the dragon's disk was surprising. The Tournament, Mortal Kombat, was supposed to be held near Thailand; he'd never been to any foreign country, save Canada, and he found it odd that some place halfway around the world expected him to show. He'd thought about going, running away with a stolen credit card, just to get away from his old town, but when his parents said they wanted to move, the thoughts of going didn't go away. Strangely enough, he wanted to go twice as bad.  
It didn't make sense, really. But Justin just felt it was... IMPORTANT that he go, that he fight in the Tournament. He didn't know how he'd get there anymore than he knew why, but he was filled curiousity. Maybe, if he could find a way, he'd go...  
Justin sighed, tucking the disk in a dresser drawer. With a tired groan, he lay down to sleep. 


End file.
